


The Knight and the Dragon-sick

by ayzenigma, Rider_of_Spades



Series: Devil and the Dragon [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst with a Happy Ending, JayTimBINGO2019, M/M, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-18 22:24:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ayzenigma/pseuds/ayzenigma, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rider_of_Spades/pseuds/Rider_of_Spades
Summary: There once lived a benevolent King named Tim, and a knight who loved him. And that would have been that, but this is not the story.(A tale of love, loss and bravery, featuring a necklace, an epic quest or two and dragons.)





	1. Chapter 1

Far, far away, in a distant land, there once lived a benevolent king named Tim. He was dearly beloved of all his subjects, for under his rule they prospered. All were happy, perhaps, save for one—the best knight of the land, Sir Jason.

Nay, he desired not more power for himself, nor more riches. But he loved King Tim silently, from afar, with a heaviness of heart that came from the surety of a love unreturned, and for that his happiness was spoiled—but one may call him as content with his lot in life as he was with all else.

(And what of it if Court Bard Dick made gentle jest of his affections at times? It was mere sport, and Sir Jason was content.)

(However, if one were to speak of the time Sir Jason’s prized mount dropped Dick on his arse… well, let it not be said the knight was always forgiving.)

That would’ve been that, but this is not how the story goes.

It was a time of tribute and festivities, for King Tim’s birthday was nigh. His closest and dearest allies knew of his great love of knowledge, and so his majesty delighted in being gifted many books. Also among them were reams of silken parchment and quills of finest hawk feathers, that King Tim may indulge in his scholarly pastimes. It was a grand sight indeed.

Yet there was one small, odd casket that did not fit with the rest, and no one knew where it came from. The servants said it was given at the castle doors by a hooded figure, to be presented to his majesty. Here Sir Jason’s heart stirred with worry.

“Your Majesty, this may be a trap from our enemies. Shall I command others to open it instead?”

“Yes, but with spears please. We would not want our soldiers to get close to a trap.”

“Of course.”

And this was how the most curious gift at King Tim’s birthday feast was presented to him: a gold necklace of unparalleled beauty, with a single amber gem the size of a chicken’s egg and splayed with multitude of colours sitting at its centre. Instantly His Majesty felt a leaning to it, and as if in a trance, he grasped it in his bare hands and put it on.

“Your Majesty!” Sir Jason cried out.

“I am fine, Sir Jason. Please, you must not worry so, lest you fade in beauty ‘fore Dick.”

Sir Jason flushed red amidst the laughter of others and Dick’s good-natured protests, and said no more. The festivities resumed. (And if King Tim visited the treasury before sleep, no one took note of it.)

* * *

The signs were subtle at first: King Tim beginning to wear a few more rings, or a daily discreet visit to the treasury. That was why no one perceived the trouble, and no one, not even Sir Jason, was there to stop it.

And thus it came as a great shock, the first of many, when King Tim demanded a raise in taxes.

“But sire!” Lady Harper cried. “The harvest this year has been bountiful, and we are not in need of more tributes. How shall we answer this to the people?”

“Tell them it is as the king commands, and as the king wills it, so shall it be done.” His Majesty replied imperiously, before leaving with a sweep of his robes.

Then came an odd story repeated among the servants in the palace, that King Tim was beginning to sleep in the treasury every night. The maids tittered nervously amongst themselves. Surely his soft bed linens were far better than all that gold? But they dared not raise the matter with their superiors, for it was a mere oddity, was it not?

Finally the greatest shock of all came: one day Prince Damian, the next in line to the throne, was summoned by the king. And upon his appearance, he was seized.

“What is the meaning of this?!” the Prince demanded in a fury.

“It is as it appears, Damian. You are no longer to be prince of this kingdom or my heir, as befits one who intended to overthrow me. You shall not receive any trial and shall instead be summarily executed. Guards, let him spend his last night in the dungeon.”

“No!” Prince Damian cried as he was led away. “Unhand me! I have never done such a thing! Tim!”

(He was gone, escaped, come morning, and alongside him Lady Stephanie, who had lent him her aid. In a few months’ time, there would be news among the kingdom of the beginnings of a resistance against the king.)

Meanwhile Sir Jason was becoming more distraught by the day. For he had sworn his knightly oath (and his heart) to his only king, but what should become of that loyalty and love in the face of this madness? Shall he serve this cold, greedy _tyrant_, who no longer appeared as the one he loved?

Not that he had a choice. More and more, he was summoned to King Tim’s personal quarters, and more and more, he began to see. That King Tim never ever took off the amber-gold necklace. Not in his sleep, not even as he performed his daily ablutions. His heart began to fill with suspicion and several important questions:

_What was it about this necklace? _

_Why did His Majesty have it about his person all the time? _

_What would happen if I took it away?_

He found the answer to the last one, and more, the next time King Tim bathed.

“My king,” Sir Jason asked. “Would it not be better if you left this necklace with your clothes as you bathe?”

“It’s fine, I like it the way it is.”

“But surely it must be uncomfortable and heavy to wear for so long. Will you not rest your weary neck?”

“I’m perfectly alright, Sir Jason. Please leave it as is.”

Sir Jason could have obeyed. He would have obeyed, except an unnamed dread began to take shape in him, a fear that put him ill at ease. So he reached out a hand instead, and laid a finger upon the necklace.

“I could—”

“I SAID LEAVE IT!” The king screamed, slapping his hand away as Sir Jason gasped. For in that instant, in King Tim’s rage, his sea-blue eyes had turned amber, and greeted him with a snake’s gaze instead.

Everything fell into place.

_Dragon_, thought Sir Jason with no small mounting horror. _My king has fallen prey to the sickness of the dragon._

“GO! LEAVE ME BE!” bellowed the possessed man, and the knight needed not be told twice. But he ran not to cower away in fear. Nay, he went with purpose. For he knew now what must be done to save his country and his king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by the song, The Politics & The Life from the 2017 movie King Arthur: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56cnOkQFRwo


	2. Chapter 2

There went Sir Jason, best knight of the land, stealing away from the castle in his darkest armour while night is at hand. No eyes saw him that were not an owl’s; no ears heard him that were not those of a rabbit.

No one waited for him on the road, except Court Bard Dick.

“Dick!” He hissed, leading his horse and the bard away from the road. “What are you doing here?”

“Following you of course,” said the man jauntily, slinging a pack onto his shoulder. “I can see that you’ll be going on quite the adventure.”

“This is not a game!” Sir Jason urgently whispered. “Hurry back, before they catch you. Doesn’t the resistance need their chief spy beside the king?”

“Ah, so you knew.” Dick nodded solemnly. “And yet you did not give me away. All the more reason to be of assistance to you.”

“How could a bard possibly be of aid in a quest to cure dragon-sickness? Surely one does not sing it away.”

Dick huffed like a horse. “No, but a bard may have once consulted with the great Oracle-Mage. Come, follow me. I know the way.”

The Oracle-Mage Barbara—fey, clever, and beautiful was she—dwelled in the highlands more vast than the eagle’s eye could see. Few men could claim to have laid eyes upon her. Sir Jason was more than glad Dick was one of them.

“What brings you to my humble abode, o best knight of the land?” declared Mage Barbara, before she sneered at Dick. “And you, court bard, come again to seek my hand?”

Sir Jason felt his eyebrows shoot up as Dick turned red. “Come now, great Oracle, I was of a young and hasty age!”

The knight snorted. Trust Dick indeed, to achieve the impossible for the most ridiculous reason. “O great Oracle-Mage,” knelt Sir Jason, “We have come in dire straits, for the dragon-sickness has befallen our king.”

The Mage frowned. “Dire straits indeed. May I first know how this came to be?”

As Sir Jason related the tale of woe, of the necklace and King Tim’s eyes flashing serpentine, the Oracle paced and appeared in deep thought. Then she stopped.

“I believe I know this curse of which you speak. And if you may gather me the right ingredients, I shall have the remedy ready within two weeks.”

“Two weeks?!” cried Dick. “We cannot wait two weeks. Who knows what further madness may assail the king by then!”

The Oracle pursed her lips. “Two weeks. You will need one to find me the ingredients, and one for it to brew. Now will you complain some more, or will you hear what needs be done?”

Sir Jason nodded, quieting Dick, and thus their quest began.

* * *

_You will first need the tear of a mermaid. Then bring me some herbs, from the tallest peak of a flatland mountain. Then the blood of the one who loves him the most._

The mermaid was at least easy to find. There were always some that dwelled by the sea, and the sea could be reached by a mere two days’ ride.

The hard part, now, was obtaining a tear, for mermaids were ruthless creatures even pirates feared.

But Sir Jason was not to be deterred. “Mermaids, o great hunters of the sea!” he cried fearlessly. “Come hear my plea!”

No mermaid appeared.

“Sir Jason,” Dick muttered, crossing his arms uneasily. “I don’t think this is wise.”  


Sir Jason heard not. His breath caught, for who should step out of the waves but his beloved king?

“Jason,” King Tim smiled, with limpid eyes he implored. “_Come to me_.”

Sir Jason should have questioned why his king was here. He should have asked himself why the king, now tyrant, was all lovely and soft.

Instead all he felt was a pleasant warmth. “Of course,” he answered, and stepped forward.

Distantly he might have heard Dick yelling, something about not getting close to her. But who was this woman Dick spoke of? Only they were here.

“That’s it,” soothed King Tim. “Come. Come closer my dear.”

Somewhere deep inside Sir Jason, a tiny voice called. _He would never call you my dear._

Sir Jason halted. His king frowned. “What’s the matter?”

His tongue felt as stone, but he spoke. “…You’re… not him…”

The frown went away, and a sly, coy smile overtook his liege’s face. “Ah, caught. ‘Tis true, I am not. But does it matter? Come closer my darling Jason, and you shall have him forever in your arms.”

For half a heartbeat, he was tempted. Oh, to have King Tim as his forever. Surely it would be a dream worth having, would it not?

_No_, sighed the little voice. _No, it would not._

“—JASON!!!”

Sir Jason drew his sword.

He blinked. In King Tim’s place, lay a furious, astonished mermaid, a sword tip upon her breast. “How? You were not supposed to break the spell.” The mermaid demanded.

The knight sheathed his sword and knelt where he stood. “M’lady, from you I’ll need a single tear.”

“Answer me! No man has broken my spell in over a century! How?”

“T’was simple. You were not him and that is all.”

“I do not understand. You could’ve dreamed of having him forever. Why break the spell for he who waits back at the castle? He loves you not.”

Sir Jason smiled tiredly. “This matters not. It is he for whom I would fain walk to the ends of the earth to have back again.”

And the mermaid, whose spell was thwarted for the first time in a century, felt her eyes well up for the knight and his care for his king. . “A mermaid tear, then, to help the little dragon,” she said, as she handed Sir Jason that which he sought from her.

* * *

The herbs were a simpler find, though the peak of any mountain was no easy climb. It took a full day, and by the end of it, Sir Jason’s brows were ringed with frost. Dick, who had waited by the foot of the mountain, took the grasses and snowdrops from trembling hands. Then he wrapped an arm around the silent knight to help him walk, for the man’s lips were blue and he could barely stand.

That night, they received grave news from Lady Harper. King Tim had decreed that they would march upon their neighbouring lands soon. Friends and allies no more, King Tim would call upon them death and war.

The resistance army was set to stop them before the king threw the country to ruin.

Their time questing had come to a close.

“I see you have brought me a mermaid’s tear and the herbs,” remarked the Oracle later. “But what of the blood? Have you brought the one who loves him most?”

In reply, Dick cleaned his dagger and nodded at Sir Jason to take off his glove.

The potion, when brewed, was as clear as the purest spring. It had the faint smell of green things. “All the better for you to slip into his wine,” Mage Barbara commented, as she corked them a bottle. “Remember, five drops, nothing more.”

“Thank you, Oracle-Mage.”

The Oracle sighed. “Thank me not yet, for I have still a gift, or perhaps a burden, for you.” She turned to the large cauldron behind her and muttered her magicks over it, before asking for Sir Jason’s sword and dipping it in the brew. “Now this blade shall have the power to slay anything of a monstrous nature—including a dragon.”

At once, upon the knight, a terrible understanding dawned. “No! I shall not use it, I will not! This potion is enough, is it not? I shall have no need to slay a dragon.”

“It has been two weeks, Sir Jason. The king may well have progressed far deeper into his dragon-sickness and may become one soon. I’m sorry, but this you must be prepared for.”

“She’s right,” Bard Dick called out softly. “We must put country above even king. Please. Take the sword.”

Sir Jason sighed. He slumped a little, as if the weight of the world were upon his shoulders, as he took the blade. Gift or burden indeed. Then he leveled Dick with a fierce gaze.

“Alright. But we must never let the need for it come to be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by this King Arthur OST: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QjWDBEz_6p4


	3. Chapter 3

They returned to the castle none too soon. King Tim was set to march with his army to the nearest neighbouring land the very next morning.

“Sir Jason,” the king frowned. “Where have you been these days?”

Sir Jason set down a chest of gold with Dick, drawn out of his personal coffers. “I have been to my estate to tend to personal matters. Here, a gift for you, sire.”

King Tim smiled at once at the sight of all the coins, and Sir Jason barely suppressed a shudder. Never had he wanted to see such a greedy look on his king’s face again. “Excellent, excellent. You have returned at just the right time too. We are on the brink of a great era, Sir Jason, and I shall need my best knight at hand.”

Sir Jason bowed. “Yes, my liege. Shall we toast to a successful campaign?”

“That’s a lovely idea, Sir Jason. Yes, please fetch the wine.”

King Tim did not see his knight slip the cure into his drink. He would not have smelled the potion, if the mulled wine had been sweeter and his senses more human.

But the mulled wine was bitter, and King Tim was no longer human.

Such was the way of things.

“Hmmm how curious.”

“Sire?”

“It appears that someone is trying to poison me. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“I—no. Perhaps the wine has spoiled. Let me call the maids for another—”

“_Liar_,” hissed King Tim, his voice now sickeningly sweet. “Do you think me a fool? Though, ‘tis true I would not have considered my best, my most _loyal_ knight a traitor. Guards! Seize him!”

Alarmed, Dick stepped forward before he was seized too. “My king—”

“Silence, Dick! I can see you’re an accomplice too. I will deal with _you_ later. For now, Sir Jason, for your audacity you shall have the honour of being executed by me.” King Tim drew his sword, but before he could do more than point it at Sir Jason’s throat his knees buckled. His Majesty groaned and placed a hand to his head.

The guards hesitated. “Sire?”

King Tim looked up. Sir Jason jolted. Out of those eyes, he was sure, peered the _real King Tim._

“Your Majesty?”

“Sir Jason,” The king whispered hoarsely, rising to his feet. “I—”

Amber flashed through the king’s eyes. “Kill hi—”

Blue returned to King Tim’s eyes, as he cried, “No!”

Another pulse of amber. “I said _kill h_—”

The drums and horns of war sounded outside the castle. Sir Jason turned to the nearest window.

The resistance army had arrived.

“Long live King Damian!” cried the herald. The drums boomed as the warriors outside raised their weapons.

“Long live King Damian!”

For one moment, King Tim stood there, looking livid. Then he threw his head back and let out an inhuman roar.

Chaos, the throne room bursting outwards, screams as rock fell.

In the king’s place now stood a most gigantic dragon, spanning half the castle. It stretched out its wings and peered out at the frozen army at the castle’s doorstep. Then it flew.

Sir Jason squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, no tears fell.

He unsheathed his sword.

* * *

“Sir Jason! Sir Jason!” The knight turned. It was Dick; thank the Holy Powers above, the court bard was fine and running towards him. Sir Jason noted distantly that some of the guards present had fled, while some were injured, and yet others stood frozen on the spot. He drew back his shoulders and shouted. “Guards! To me!”

“You,” he pointed at one pale-faced, young guard. “Go to the healers’ quarters, quickly, and tell Master Cullen the throne room and floor above have caved in. He’ll know what to do. And you,” he greeted another guard. “Find Steward Alfred and tell him to evacuate the castle.”

“Sir!” The men saluted and ran. Sir Jason turned to Dick. “Dick, I’ll need you to find Dame Cass and tell her to rally the army. The Prince’s forces won’t last if they fight the dragon alone.”

“Right.” Dick nodded and ran off too.

“The rest of you, stay here and assist Master Cullen in clearing the cave-in.”

“Yes sir!”

Sir Jason turned and ran out the nearest exit himself without waiting for them to finish. Already he could hear the dragon’s roars and the war cries of Prince Damian’s army.

“Redhelm!” Sir Jason whistled, heading for the stables. It was sheer luck they were so close to the ruined throne room. “Time to ride, boy!”

A wild neigh was heard before the knight’s prized mount burst through the stables. Sir Jason leapt on and rode for the cluster of figures directing the fight. “Prince Damian! ”

“Sir Jason! Thank the Powers the Be!”

“Dame Cass will be here soon with reinforcements. Can the army hold till then?”

Prince Damian nodded. “’Tis relieving news. For now we can fend the beast off. Will you be staying to command the forces?”

Sir Jason shook his head. “Nay. The great Oracle-Mage has bequeathed me a magicked sword, one able to… slay a dragon.” He swallowed. The dragon…. No. Now was not the time to think about it.

The prince smiled grimly. “Then we have a plan. When the next volley brings the dragon down, charge in at the head of the cavalry and take your chance.”

“Yes, sire.”

“Good. Archers!” called out the prince.

“ARCHERS! NOCK! AIM FOR THE WINGS!” bellowed the generals.

“READY…”

“RELEASE!”

Thousands of arrows whistled through the sky, bringing the shrieking beast crashing down. As the cavalry galloped in, Sir Jason charged to the fore, and rode alongside the belly. He prayed to whichever god listened that the serpent did not breathe fire and _swung_.

The great wyrm screamed as the knight’s sword connected, scoring a large gash all the way across. Such was its thrashing that Sir Jason was nearly thrown off his horse. He rode away from the dragon, heart sinking as he planned his next charge. How should he do this? Aim for the neck? The head?

“Sir Jason!”

It was Dame Cass, newly arrived with reinforcements. “Sir Jason, Prince Damian told me to come assist you. What are your orders?”

“I’m going to aim for the dragon’s neck, and I’ll need a clear shot. Can you keep him distracted?”  


“Yes sir! We’ll aim for the opening you made in the beast’s belly.” Dame Cass turned back to the battle, urging her mount forward as she shouted, “CAVALRY! TO ME!”

Sir Jason took a moment to trace out his trajectory before charging forth once more, focused solely on the dragon’s throat. For one moment, the battle appeared to have stilled before him. This was it. He had to— had to—

“CHARGE!” His second-in-command yelled, stirring Jason from his thoughts.

He spurred Redhelm on by instinct, getting ever closer to the dragon. In fact, so focused was he on this final target, Sir Jason missed the way the wyrm thrashed into his path—a movement that knocked him clean off his horse and sent Redhelm dashing away.

_NO!_

He rolled to the side, losing his grip on his blade and just barely managing to avoid getting crushed as the dragon settled back down. Dread strangled him from beneath his forced calm. How was he meant to kill the dragon now, without steed or sword or plan?

Then the creature reared, exposing its chest.

And Sir Jason’s sword on the ground right beneath its breast.

Where he would be crushed alive beneath the dragon if he pierced it.

Sir Jason ran forth. He scooped up his sword and thrust upward into the dragon’s chest without a second thought. His aim was true, and the blade pierced through scale and flesh into the creature’s heart.

The great beast screamed one long, last scream. Sir Jason closed his eyes without meaning to. It was as if he could feel the pain in the creature’s final heartbeats echoed in his own heart.

The sword bucked in his hand as the body of the dragon came falling down… dissipating into so much mist before it could hit him. And in the centre of it all, lay King Tim.

Sir Jason’s heart soared with hope. _His king!_ He stumbled forward on shaking legs. “Sire! My liege!”

No response.

He felt his heart sink and terror reigned once more. He had reached the king.

King Tim was not breathing.

Frantic, he picked up and gently shook his beloved. “Sire! Sire! My king!”

King Tim continued to lie, ever small and broken in his arms.

Distantly Sir Jason could feel a hand laid on his shoulder. Dick’s voice, oddly hesitant. “Sir Jason, I don’t think he’s—”

“NO! DON’T!” He smacked Dick’s hand away. “Don’t.”

The sky was too dark. Was it beginning to rain? He felt wetness on his cheeks.

_Oh._

Sir Jason bowed over his king’s body. And for the first time since his boyhood, he wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by King Arthur OST, The Power Of Excalibur: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fFTtUrXPBqk
> 
> Apologies for the, uh, ahem, cliffhanger! We promise things will turn out okay? *Gestures at the tags.* Promise! In the meantime, feel free to cry your feelings at us in the comments~


End file.
